


Worth a Shot

by fishpoets



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: ..kinda, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blind Date, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, Meddlesome Siblings, Mistaken Identity, Online Dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 13:06:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15001526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fishpoets/pseuds/fishpoets
Summary: When Jesse let Fareeha talk him into trying out a dating app, he wasn't expecting anything to come of it.Sometimes it's good to be proven wrong.





	Worth a Shot

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in a notebook over christmas intending to post it for valentine's day, and then totally forgot about it. i found it again recently and finished it up, but i'm not waiting til next feb to post it, so here! enjoy this winter-set fic in the middle of summer ;*

 

 

“Yeah, yeah, _aniki_ , I know. Well, if you're sure this is what you really want...”

 

“It is, Genji, just as it was last year, and the year before that. I am _fine,_ so would you _please_ stop pestering me? I grow tired of it.”

 

“Alright grumpy, jeez. I'll let you get back to work. But I expect to see you at Hana's tonight!”

 

“I'll be there,” Hanzo snapped, and hung up.

 

Genji sighed. He dropped his phone to his lap and slumped back against the sofa, tipping his head into the squish of the cushions. Another year, another twelve months of Hanzo insisting he was perfectly happy all by himself. Hell, maybe it was true – Genji knew his brother was naturally far more inclined to solitude than Genji himself – but he had to wonder how much of Hanzo's loner tendencies were genuine and how much was shielding and pretence. To remain aloof and separate from other people was an easier and far less strenuous undertaking than to let them in; opening up meant letting yourself be vulnerable, meant gambling with the risk of being hurt.

 

But surely even the great Shimada Hanzo sometimes got lonely.

 

Genji was lucky. He'd met Angela only a couple weeks after he'd first settled in the States, and about a year after that Zenyatta also drifted into his life, setting up shop like he'd always been there. Their arrangement was unconventional but it worked, and suited Genji perfectly; it was a relationship that enriched all their lives with happiness.

 

Wishing some of that same happiness for his big brother was hardly a crime. Not that you'd know from the way Hanzo reacted whenever Genji raised the subject.

 

As a child and teenager Hanzo had kept any crushes he may have had to himself. As a stressed, sleep-deprived student the only relationships he'd bothered with, so far as Genji was aware, were quick flings to let off steam – one nights, and one nights only. By the time Hanzo was a fledgling businessman under their father's thumb he'd all but sworn off romance entirely.

 

Since Hanzo followed Genji out to America a few years ago he'd acknowledged Valentine's with the same air of vaguely irritated indifference he'd shown White Day in their youth – the kind of attention you'd pay to doomsday preachers on street corners, or that dog that always yaps itself hoarse behind the fence when you walk past. There had been a period where Genji thought things were looking up: a couple months after he moved here, Hanzo had started actually going out. He'd _dated._ People _, multiple_ ; a string of little relationships, one or two of which lasted as long as six weeks. They all fizzled out eventually, though, and Hanzo started to retreat into his hermit shell again. By now he might as well have completely given up.

 

This would be the fourth February in a row Hanzo had spent all alone.

 

There had to be something Genji could do, he thought, digging his phone back out from between the couch cushions. Hanzo may protest he was fine, but Genji could tell the difference between when Hanzo was in a good mood and when he was just coping – he was much better company in the former, for one. No, Hanzo was stagnating, and it was Genji's duty as a loving little brother to help, whether Hanzo wanted him to or not.

 

He swiped absent-mindedly through the app store, hoping for inspiration to jump out at him. He could sign Hanzo up for a pen-pal, maybe – at least that would get him talking to other people without requiring him to leave his house. Or maybe he could get Hanzo a new pet? A puppy; that way he'd have to take it out for walks and socialization. Or...

 

A bright pink logo caught his eye. A little heart with an arrow through its center. Genji grinned. Now there was an idea. One that might just work.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You sure about this, Fareeha?”

 

Static crackled over the phone line as she huffed on the other end. “I wouldn't have suggested it if I wasn't.”

 

Jesse clicked his tongue. “See, I been usin' this a month now, and all I've gotten from it is dick pics I neither asked for nor wanted, and a bunch of creepy messages from guys waaay outside my age range.” He grimaced. “If some barely legal thing calls me 'daddy' _ever_ again, I'm renouncing all men and movin' to a monastery.”

 

His ever-so supportive sister laughed at him.

 

“Seriously Fee, I ain't kiddin'.”

 

“Come on, Jess, it can't all be that bad. Is there no one who's caught your eye?”

 

Jesse clicked on his matches and scrolled down. “I dunno, Fee. All I'm seeing here is a wall of headless ab shots and middle-aged men with scraggly beards holdin' guns.”

 

“Need I remind you, Jess, _you_ are a middle-aged man with a scraggly beard and a gun.”

 

“Excuse you, middle-age isn't 'til forty, at least; I got a couple years to go yet. And my beard is _full_ and _majestic_ , thank you very much!”

 

“Mhm. Whatever you say.”

 

Ignoring her sass, Jesse scrolled down further. “And if they ain't holdin' a gun, they're holdin' a _fish_ instead. What is it with white guys and fishing, anyhow?”

 

His sister giggled. “I wouldn't know. You'll have to ask Jack next time you see him.”

 

“At least they're better than this guy, I s'pose,” Jesse grumbled. “He ain't bothered to put up a picture at all.”

 

“Well, maybe he's shy.”

 

Jesse scoffed.

 

“Okay, Jesse, I really don't know what you want me to say here,” Fareeha said, a slight edge to her tone like his dour mood was starting to grate on her nerves. “If you judge every book by its cover you're not going to get anywhere. Have you read any of the profiles? You say you want a fulfulling relationship, but you're gonna have to work for it, you know. The app can't drop one in your lap fully-formed.”

 

Damn it, he hated when she was right.

 

She sighed at his silence. “Just try talking to a few people, okay? Then if you still feel it's not working out for you, you can stop whenever you like. Just cancel your account and delete the app, and it'll be over and done with.”

 

“Yeah, okay.” Jesse rested his head in his hand, massaging his temple with the tips of his fingers. “'M sorry, Fee, I know you're only tryin' to help. It's just... you know how I get about this time o' year.”

 

“I _do_ know. That's why I suggested the app.”

 

“Despite the fact I keep telling you I'm gettin' by just fine as I am.”

 

Her hum spoke volumes, and all of them doubtful. “Some people weren't meant for solitude, Jesse,” she said, “and you're one of them. You're not built for it. When you're alone too long you withdraw and get all...”

 

She trailed off. Jesse frowned. “All _what?”_

 

“..Grumpy.” Jesse's frown deepened, but she carried on before he could try to refute. “Listen, Jesse, if you really hate it--”

 

“Yeah yeah, I hear ya,” he interrupted. “Look, sis, hate to cut this short but I gotta run. Talk to you later.”

 

“I – alright, if you must.”

 

“Give my love to Satya.”

 

“Will do. See you soon, Jesse.”

 

Jesse hung up. If anything he felt more despondant now than he had before he called, but if he was honest with himself she probably had a point. He wasn't gonna get very far in the hunt for love – or at least the hope for some meaningful connection – if he went into every encounter expecting to be disappointed from the start.

 

The profile with no picture had a little pink smiley face in the corner. That meant the site thought the two of them were a good match – though given how another smiley-faced individual had straight-up messaged Jesse to tell him he was 'fit, but too exotic', as if that was a god damned compliment, Jesse wasn't much inclined to trust the algorithm's opinions.

 

_'No offence, just personal preference :)'_ his brown, hairy _ass._

 

No Picture couldn't be any worse than that, right?

 

He clicked.

 

The little bio at the top painted a few details. _H,_ the only name given, was _38 years old_ ; only a year older than Jesse, well within his age range. That at least was a promising start. _East_ _Asian. 5'8'' –_ quite a bit shorter than Jesse, then, but not so much it would make him feel uncomfortable – and his build was _Athletic_ , huh? Interesting. He was single and looking for a monogamous relationship.

 

The written _about me_ section was brief and to-the-point:

 

 

 

> _Greetings_ , it read. _Originally from Japan, I have been living and working as an architect in the US for several years and I intend to stay here. I speak four languages, and I used to be a kendo champion in my youth, though now I prefer to keep fit with archery. I enjoy good drinks and good food, especially desserts, and I like to spend my free time reading, growing flowers, hiking and, when time permits, video games. (Pok_ _é_ _mon in particular – don't tell anyone!)_
> 
> _I am looking for a man who is affectionate but independent, with whom I can share some adventures, as well as a quiet drink at the end of a long day._
> 
> _I have two spoiled and argumentative Russian Blue cats, and a brother whom I love very much._

 

 

 

> _Apologies for the lack of a name and picture,_ it said at the end. _My job is rather high profile and I'd prefer not to be recognized by my colleagues or clients. Serious messages only, please._

 

Well, that was fair enough, Jesse supposed. It was a shame there wasn't a whole lot to go on; the guy sounded like he might be a bit highfalutin, maybe – with his 'high profile' job, could be he'd look down his nose at a man like Jesse, with a juvie criminal record and his highest level of qualification being a GED. No matter that one of _Joel Morricone's_ recent articles had been cherry-picked for publication by the New York Times.

 

But on the other hand, maybe not. It sounded like they had some interests in common, the archery in particular piquing his curiosity. The Pokémon thing was, well, _cute_ , and a fella having an appreciation for food and family was always a plus in Jesse's book. It couldn't hurt to send one little message, could it? Didn't he owe it to Fareeha to try at least that much?

 

“Worth a shot, right?” he muttered to himself, and dragged his keyboard close.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Hat: check. Boots: check. The jeans that hugged his ass just right: check. Freshly showered, a barest hint of woodsy cologne, beard tamed to make sure it gave the impression of roguishly charming instead of wild man – and not at all scraggly, thanks, Fareeha. The blue plaid shirt he was wearing in his profile picture, and of course his belt buckle; he couldn't do without that. A thick shearling jacket as concession to the freeze-your-balls-off temperature, keys, wallet, phone, and he was good to go.

 

A potent cocktail of warring anxiety and excitement fizzed in his veins as he checked himself in the mirror one last time.

 

“Jesse,” he told his reflection, “even if this guy turns out to be the actual, absolute _worst_ , at least you are still one damn handsome son-of-a-gun.” His reflection finger-gunned back at him.

 

“Right.” He adjusted his hat. “Show time.”

 

 

 

He had to admit he'd been surprised when H – or Hanzo, as he'd revealed in their messages back-and-forth – had agreed to them meeting so quickly. Hell, he'd been surprised Hanzo'd responded to him at all, but he weren't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe this Hanzo fella preferred meeting face-to-face, chemistry being fickle and sometimes hard to judge through text – or maybe, like Jesse, he simply didn't want to spend another February 14th all by himself.

 

Either way, Jesse was finding it hard not to get his hopes up.

 

He'd made a point to get there early, but when he arrived there was already a silhouette standing outside the door to the cafe. Jesse parked his truck in a free space up the street, took a moment to collect himself, then climbed out into the brisk morning air.

 

Walking down to the cafe, Jesse examined the man waiting on the sidewalk. His heart started to beat faster. Was this him? Asian man, around the right height, with a sweep of long dark hair visible between his black beanie and the upturned collar of his deep navy coat, the ends of which draped over the folds of a bright orange scarf he had wrapped around his neck. Sure looked like it could be him.

 

As Jesse drew near, the man looked up.

 

Jesse's breath hitched. Lord above, he hoped this was him.

 

“Hey there,” he greeted with his best charming smile, heart in his throat.

 

The man's beautiful eyes were a cool slate gray in the bright wintery light, yet they _burned_ like hot peppers, were as alluring as the scent of fresh coffee. They flicked over Jesse, hat to boots and back up – but within those eyes there was not a trace of recognition. He nodded an acknowledgement then turned away, looking out again at the street.

 

Jesse's heart crash-landed somewhere on the frostbit asphalt beneath his feet. Confused, he settled in on the opposite side of the door to the staggeringly handsome apparent stranger and shoved his hands in his pockets. His phone bumped against his knuckles. He hadn't gotten the details wrong, had he? It wasn't like him – he had a good head for things like names and times – but it wasn't beyond the realms of possibilty, so he dug out his phone, tapped on the pink logo of the dating app, and navigated to his conversation with H.

 

The messages said 10am – it was currently 9:57 – at the Crusader's Cafe, a german bakery-turned-eatery run by an enormous, eccentric former soldier and his god-daughter. Old Reinhardt was engaged in a long, slow courtship of Fareeha's mother, which is how Jesse'd been introduced to the place; he'd suggested it to Hanzo as a good spot to meet, and Hanzo had agreed.

 

So he was at the right place. At the right time. Just not with the right man, apparently.

 

He peeked over his shoulder in through the window behind him. He spied Brigitte laying out a tray of freshly baked _spritzkuchen_ behind the counter, but there was no sign of anyone who might even resemble the mysterious Hanzo inside the cafe. He cleared his throat.

 

“Say, uh...”

 

The man glanced over and raised his brows – and now Jesse was looking properly, he noticed the glint of metal either side of the bridge of his nose. A piercing. “Um. Sorry to disturb y'all, but – the name's Jesse, Jesse McCree. I'm meant to be meetin' someone here; you ain't him, by chance, are you?”

 

The man's brows, which had crept higher up his forehead through Jesse's stuttering, suddenly furrowed. “No, I am not,” he replied, in a voice that made something in Jesse instinctively both sit up with interest, ears pricked, and want to lay down in offering at his feet. “I am here to have breakfast with my brother, nothing more.”

 

“Alright, sorry for botherin'.”

 

“It was no trouble,” the man muttered, and with the slightest huff of a sigh clouding in the cold air, he turned away once more.

 

Now it was 10:06, and Jesse was feeling uncomfortably hot and embarrassed as well as disappointed. He fired off a quick message to H – _hey, I'm here :)_ – then settled back against the wide doorframe and shoved his hands back in his pockets. He watched the other man surruptiously from under his hat, but there was no telltale buzz of an incoming notif, no sign the man had received anything. Not even a twitch.

 

_You're being a creep, Jess, stop it_ , the voice in his head scolded. It sounded exactly like Fareeha when she was telling him things he didn't want to hear 'for his own good'. _Let it go. Your H is probably just running late._

 

So he resigned himself to wait. Five minutes seemed like an eternity when you were hanging out on the sidewalk in the cold for a man whose face you didn't even know, and as the seconds ticked by it grew increasingly difficult not to feel like the universe at large was playing a prank on him. Maybe no-picture-H got off on stringing people along, on standing them up and leaving them confused and upset. Maybe he was hiding somewhere nearby, watching and laughing at Jesse standing about like a fool, waiting on someone who would never show.

 

Curiously enough the attractive man's brother didn't show either. By five minutes he was tapping his foot, and after ten he was muttering under his breath as he typed angrily on his phone.

 

Jesse was cold, and fed up, and a hair's breadth from cutting his losses and going home to mope, but he decided to take one last roll of the dice.

 

“Hey, sorry-”

 

The man looked up and scowled. “I have already told you-”

 

Jesse raised his hands placatingly. “I know, I know, I don't mean no trouble, honest. Just – listen, we've both been out in the cold a while. Your brother ain't showed and it doesn't look like my guy Hanzo's going to either, and... well, I've gotta be honest here, I think you're mighty handsome. Don't suppose you'd care to take that breakfast with me instead?”

 

The man's eyes widened with surprise, then shock – then, to Jesse's alarm, his face turned thunderous.

 

His lips curled up in a snarl. “ _Excuse_ me?”

 

“Whoa now.” Jesse backed off. “No need to get heated about it. You ain't interested just say so.”

 

“No, not – who are you?” the man spat. “How do you know my name?”

 

“I – What? I don't-”

 

“Don't play dumb!” The man marched into Jesse's space, breath hot on his skin, and grabbed Jesse's coat collar in his fist with a grip like iron. “Tell me!” he barked. “How do you know my name?”

 

“What, _Hanzo?_ ” Jesse was honestly bewildered. “Hanzo's the name of the guy I was meant to meet here. We were supposed to be on a date.” The man dropped his collar but didn't back away, so Jesse, slowly, fished his phone out his coat again. “I can show you if you want,” he said. “I ain't makin' this shit up, I swear.”

 

The man snatched his phone when he held it out. There was a tense silence as he read through the messages, then some of the tension unraveled from his shoulders and he handed it back.

 

“Very well. I believe you,” he said, stepping back so he was no longer cramping Jesse's breathing room.

 

“Okay, good.” Jesse straightened his coat. “So, I'm guessin' your name's Hanzo, then? Hell of a coincidence.”

 

The man – Hanzo, this was gonna get confusing – shook his head. “Actually, I have reason to suspect it is anything but. The name 'Hanzo' is... highly unusual. The chances of anyone else with that name arranging to meet you here, at this time...” He tutted and shook his head again. “Excuse me a moment.”

 

He took out his own cell and dialed. It rang for almost a minute before someone answered.

 

“Good morning, brother,” Hanzo said. “I was calling to see what was delaying you. You are aware that you are fifteen – no,” he pulled down his cuff and checked his watch, “-almost _twenty_ minutes late.”

 

A pause on the line as the brother replied. Hanzo's expression soured. “Do you know how I was expecting my morning to go, Genji?” he said, calm as a coiled snake. “I thought I would be having a pleasant morning with my brother, a rare opportunity to catch up before you disappear to Nepal for the next month and a half. I was _not_ expecting to be spending my limited time off standing here in the freezing cold, waiting, only for you, without warning or explanation, to never turn up.”

 

His eyes flicked up to Jesse. “But you know something interesting, Genji? There is a man here, a Mister McCree, who apparently has been standing here waiting for _me_. You wouldn't happen to know anything about this bizarre set of circumstances, would you, _ot_ _ō_ _to?_ ”

 

From there the conversation, or Hanzo's side of it at least, devolved into rapid, clipped Japanese that Jesse had no hope of understanding. Hanzo's voice was powerful and rough, but Jesse couldn't find the presence of mind to admire it; he was too busy juggling feeling equal parts humiliated and let down. It wasn't hard to piece together what had happened: an interfering sibling pretending to be their brother on a dating site, fixing him a date without his knowledge. Stranger things had happened.

 

What made it worse was now Jesse couldn't even feel vindictive or spiteful about being stood-up. Hanzo hadn't even known he existed twenty minutes ago. It wasn't a rejection, not really. Sure as hell stung like one though.

 

He was thinking he should just leave, tail between his legs, preserve what little was left of his dignity while he could, but then the man ended his call, tipped his head back and let out a sharp, exasperated sigh that was almost a groan.

 

“I must apologize, Mister McCree,” he said, rubbing the tense furrow between his brows with the tips of his fingers, “for my suspicion. I should not have laid my hands on you.”

 

Jesse shrugged. “S'alright, I get it. Normally I don't tolerate folks gettin' in my face like that, but if I'd been in your position I would'a been pretty freaked out too, so. Water under the bridge, an' all that.”

 

“This is deeply humiliating. I hope too much of your time has not been wasted.”

 

The tips of Hanzo's ears were starting to flush the loveliest shade of pink. Such a shame, Jesse thought mournfully, something hot and hollow curdling at the base of his throat. It felt cruel, to be teased with the idea of a man as gorgeous as Hanzo being interested in _him,_ of all people – only for it to be so swiftly snatched away _._

 

He should know better by now. Hope was always painful.

 

“It's fine, don't worry about it.” The silence was awkward. He scratched his neck. “Soo... younger brother, I take it?”

 

Hanzo huffed. “How did you guess?” he said, tone dry as the Mojave.

 

“Mine's a younger sister.”

 

“Ah. I hope for your sake she does not enjoy meddling with your affairs the way mine does.”

 

Jesse quirked a grin. “Oh, she meddles, but I can't say she's ever gone so far as to run a dating profile on my behalf. I mean, I'm assuming that's what's happened here?”

 

“Yes.” Hanzo's broad shoulders drooped with another weary sigh. “I have never been able to work out whether it's the interfering itself he enjoys, or if he simply takes pleasure in aggravating me.” He pulled a face like he'd bitten a lemon. “But I should not criticize too much. At least he means well. ..Most of the time.”

 

“Family, huh? Can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.”

 

“Indeed.” To Jesse's delight, Hanzo eyed him up again from head to toe and said, “Though I suppose, if Genji had to set me up without my knowledge, he could have chosen worse.”

 

Giddiness bubbled in his chest. “Oh yeah?”

 

“A cowboy is an unconventional choice for a blind date, but it is better than... an axe-wielding murderer, for example.”

 

“Yeah, I left the axes at home. Didn't think they'd make the best first impression.”

 

He was rewarded with a quiet puff of laughter, but then Hanzo's face grew sadly sombre. “I appreciate you are able to take this with good humor,” he said. “I know this has used up too much of your time already, but – may I see the app, again? I'd like to see exactly what Genji was writing about me.”

 

_Take as much of my time as you wish,_ Jesse wanted to say, but he made do with tapping in his passcode and giving Hanzo his phone. He watched the interplay of subtle expressions flit over Hanzo's face as he read, ranging from surprise to annoyance, before settling on something like resigned amusement.

 

“Why did he have to mention the Pokémon?” he muttered, before passing the cell over. “Well, at least it is fairly accurate, I will give him that much.” He took a step back, body tilted towards the road. Like he was already mentally walking away and now all he needed was to find a polite way to say his goodbyes.

 

Jesse wasn't ready. Just a minute, just a few more words of real conversation, and he'd make do with that. He would.

 

“So you're really an archer, then?” he asked.

 

Hanzo paused. He drew his scarf up higher, until it was almost covering his mouth, before saying, “..I am, yes.” He seemed reluctant to admit it.

 

“Yeah? That's cool. I go down to the range once a week myself, fancy myself somethin' of a sharpshooter.”

 

Hanzo nodded. And that was that, Jesse thought. The moment was over, and now Hanzo was going to disengage, make his excuses and leave, and Jesse would never see him again. But instead, Hanzo angled close again and smirked.

 

“Let me guess – you favor a revolver.”

 

“I... yeah, actually, I do. How'd you figure that?”

 

Hanzo snorted. “It was rather predictable.” He reached up, and flicked the edge of Jesse's hat brim. “And your weapon... an antique six-shooter, perchance?”

 

“Alright, now you're just makin' fun o' me.”

 

“Perhaps it is bullets I should be worried about, not axes.”

 

“Darlin', I don't think you need to worry about me none.” Jesse dared to reach out, briefly tested the solidity of Hanzo's bicep beneath his coatsleeve. “Somethin' tells me you can handle yourself just fine.”

 

Hanzo'd raised his brows again but he didn't look displeased; the opposite, in fact, amusement hovering at the corners of his mouth. Jesse grabbed the thread of chance and took hold.

 

“Y'know, my invitation still stands. You wanna get breakfast with me? Dunno 'bout you but I'm starved, and it's colder than a witch's tit out here.”

 

“A witch's--” Hanzo blinked and shook his head. “You are aware I am not the man you were speaking to, yes?”

 

“No, I know.”

 

“Yet you are stilll interested?”

 

“Can you blame me?” Jesse shrugged sheepishly. “'Sides, you're the one who said what your brother wrote was accurate. Can't say I feel short-changed so far.”

 

Hanzo hummed. He scrutinized Jesse's face, looked at his watch, glanced out again at the street – Jesse held his breath, waiting for his decision.

 

“You know, Mister McCree,” Hanzo finally answered, “I think you may be right. It seems the least I could do, to make up for your wasted time.”

 

Jesse was grinning so wide his cheeks hurt, but he couldn't care less. “Please, call me Jesse,” he said, offering his hand for Hanzo to shake. “Although honestly, Hanzo, I'm startin' to feel this time ain't been wasted at all.”

 

Hanzo flicked those dark eyes over him again, curved in a subtle smile. “We shall see.” He turned and pushed open the door, looked back at Jesse over his shoulder. “Shall we?”

 

Heart alight, Jesse followed him inside.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Blue or red?”

 

Genji looked up from his phone screen. Hanzo was standing in front of his mirror, holding two silk shirts up to his body, one dark blue and the other a deep, wine red. “Wear the red one,” he replied. “Blue's for a first date. Red is what you should wear if you want to get laid.” At Hanzo's withering look he shrugged. “What? It's your first year anniversary; if you're not getting laid tonight you need to seriously reexamine your priorities, _aniki_.”

 

Hanzo snorted as he draped the blue shirt on the bed next to Genji's feet and slipped the red one on.

 

“Where's he taking you, anyway?” Genji asked.

 

“I've no idea.” Hanzo fiddled with his cuffs. “Only that he requested I 'doll myself up'.”

 

Genji hid his smile behind his hand. It was cute, seeing his serious, indomitable brother nervous for a big date. Genji was just happy Hanzo was celebrating an anniversary at all, though after seeing him and Jesse grow together for the past twelve months, he wasn't really surprised. He foresaw many anniversaries in their future.

 

“So. A year already, huh?”

 

“..Yes.”

 

“It's gone by quick.”

 

“Yes.” Hanzo straightened his collar and let out a quiet sigh. “And yet, at the same time, I can hardly imagine how I lived my life without him in it.”

 

Genji could only sit there, stunned by this casual revelation as Hanzo retrieved his keys, wallet, phone, as he pulled on his jacket and coat. “So are you finally going to admit it?” he asked, when he managed to recover his wits.

 

Hanzo paused. “Admit what?”

 

“That I was right. About Jesse.”

 

“It was pure dumb luck, nothing more,” Hanzo retorted, but then he took a deep breath, and looked at his little brother with staggering softness in his eyes. “But thank you, Genji. You were right.”

 

Genji grinned and opened his mouth--

 

“On this one occasion.”

 

-snapped it shut, and pouted. His brother laughed.

 

Genji shrugged. “You know what, _aniki?_ I'll take it.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i've been thinking of taking drabble requests on [ my tumblr](http://spoonbards.tumblr.com). i don't really talk about my writing there, like, at all, but i need something to keep me motivated to write so i don't burn out on my larger projects. idk, would you guys be interested in that?


End file.
